Dancing
by Eowyn77
Summary: How did Faramir know so much about the people of Rohan?  Just some fluff and fun based on a dream I had.
1. Bliss Before the Storm

_"And we love them: tall men and fair women, valiant both alike, golden-haired, bright-eyed, and strong; they remind us of the youth of Men, as they were in the Elder Days"_ -- Faramir (from the Two Towers, Henneth Annun Chapter)

- - -

Eowyn skipped down the passage, carried on the music that still wafted up from the Great Hall, her nurse plodding along behind. "Please, Heorthwyn," Eowyn pleaded, "just one more round?"

"Child, your mother has bid you to bed."

"But Eomer stays at the Great Hall!"

"He now has twelve summers to his name and has made his Passage to Manhood today. He has received a sword from your father and so he need not retire so early as you."

Eowyn pouted, but obediently went to her room, changed into her nightgown, and climbed into bed.

"There!" soothed Heorthwyn, tucking the coverlet around her charge. "Would you like me to tell you a tale, to send you into a pleasant dream?"

Eowyn yawned hugely. "No, I am weary now. Good night, Heorthwyn."

The nurse took the candle with her. "Good night, child. Sweet dreams."

Eowyn listened as her nurse's footsteps faded down the passage, then she threw off the covers and moved silently to the door. Nurse should know better by now, the silly old thing. Oh well. Maybe she was eager to return to the celebrations, too. Still, it would be wise to not wander too far, lest Heorthwyn come to check on her. Someone had left a candle burning in the King's writing room near the Great Hall. She could sneak in there and at least hear the music. Such music! The players were men of Gondor, come with the emissary as warriors, but they were masters of music as well. What luck for Eomer that the emissary of the Steward should be here on his Day of Passage!

The candle was still alight in the study, a faint glow showing under the door. The music swirled around her now, filling her heart and mind. She silently slipped into the room and let the music take her. She swayed and skipped and twirled in her long blue nightgown, leaping and giggling for the sheer pleasure of it.

Someone cleared his throat behind her.

Startled, Eowyn whirled to see a man standing near the shelf where Theoden King kept all his treasured scrolls and books. He was of full stature, but young. Certainly younger than Theodred. Something about his quiet face, his laughing eyes, dispelled her fear.

"I did not mean to startle you, nor to intrude upon your dance." He spoke in the Westron with the accent of Gondor.

"I think it is I who have intruded upon you."

He laughed then. "I came here with the emissary to learn of the people of Rohan. And I am learning even now." He replaced the book to the shelf. "Was that a traditional dance?"

Eowyn could feel herself blushing. "Mostly. The steps do not quite fit with the music, though. I had to add a little of my own, but this music! I simply had to dance! Do you hear it often in Gondor?"

His face was grave, save for his warm eyes. "Often, yes, but not often enough for my liking." He seemed to come to a decision. "Can you teach me?"

"Teach you what?"

"That dance."

Eowyn giggled. "I suppose." Then she straightened. "To help you in your quest for knowledge."

He, too, smiled and bowed.

"Well, first, you hold hands in a circle, except there are usually many people. And then you skip three times to the right. And then I turn in your hand and..." The man of Gondor followed her instructions as best he could, but Eowyn winced in sympathy when she stepped on his feet several times. Both of them were reduced to laughter long before the song ended. "I am afraid I am a poor pupil," the young man said.

"I am not much of a teacher, especially when I do not know the music."

"You are far more graceful than I."

"But grace comes in many forms. I saw you with the book. Do you read, man of Gondor?"

"As often as my other duties permit. Do you know how to read? There are not many in Rohan who do, I understand."

"Oh yes. Grandmother Morwen insisted I learn, but I have little enough use for it. Theodred shall need it, for he shall be king one day and write letters to the Steward at Mundburg, but what use shall I have for it? I shall raise horses and learn how to be a wise and noble lady like my mother."

"The world is wide and great, child, and there is much to learn in it." He was grave and earnest. "Words that are written remain long, and they teach truths that otherwise must be bought at great peril and pain. Do not cast aside the written word so lightly."

Eowyn nodded and felt herself color again. No adult had taken her so seriously, not since Grandmother Morwen. "I have read a scroll of Theoden King. It spoke of Folcred and Fastred and their valiant sacrifice for Gondor."

He stared at her. "That is bloody reading for a damsel so young."

Eowyn shrugged. "The world is bloody. If I am to learn of it, I will learn of blood. But Theodred says blood without valor is the only true tragedy."

The young man raised an eyebrow at that, but before he could answer, the door slammed open and Eomer stood bristling in the doorway. "You there! What are you doing with my sister?"

Eowyn rolled her eyes, but the young man looked side-long at her, as though sharing a private joke. "I am plotting to steal her away to Gondor where she shall teach me dance and I shall teach her music all the day long."

"You mock me," Eomer answered, hand on his hilt now.

"Of course I do, you dolt," the stranger laughed. "Your sister came in while I was reading and we were enjoying the music together. Nothing more."

"You are taking your Passage to Manhood far too seriously," Eowyn said with her hands on her hips, but Eomer ignored her.

"You take liberties, Faramir, and whatever your position may be, you are in the house of my mother's brother and owe me more respect."

"Faramer?" Eowyn asked. "Master Wanderer?"

"_Mir_, you foolish girl. It means jewel." Eomer smirked, as though no self-respecting man would have the word 'jewel' in his name.

"Wandering Jewel?"

Eomer looked uncertainly to Faramir, who merely bowed his head.

"Well, Wandering Jewel of Gondor," Eomer recovered, "I caught you alone with my sister..."

"Just because you have a sword does not make you my lord!" Eowyn protested hotly.

"Well, you are supposed to be in bed, _child_. Go now, or I shall tell father what I have seen," Eomer answered ominously, then looked to Faramir, "and Theodred as well."

Scowling at her brother, Eowyn retreated to the door and stuck her tongue out at Eomer's back. Faramir fought a smile and bowed to her as she rounded the corner.

- - -

**Author's Note: **This chapter takes place a few weeks/months before Eomund's death. Eowyn was 7-8 years old at the time, Eomer 12, Theodred 24, and Faramir 19-20. Faramir's name in Quenya means "Plenteous Jewel," but "fara" in Old English meant "wanderer," hence Eowyn's interpretation of the name.


	2. Grown to Grace

It was with great trepidation that Faramir stood before the chambers of Eomer King. The pale rose of dawn filtered through the high windows of the Citadel, but the light chilled him in these halls of stone. Or perhaps it was his racing heart. Facing his own father had never made his heart thunder so, but he had no more time. On the morrow, Eomer and Eowyn would leave for Rohan with the fallen Theoden King, and Eowyn wished to troth-plight in her homeland.

Taking a deep breath, he rapped on the lintel. After a moment, Eomer himself opened the door looking disheveled and newly woken. This did not bode well. "Forgive me, Eomer King. I did not mean to disturb you."

"It is no matter. Only the dead can truly sleep in peace here. Come."

Eomer went to a side-board and washed his face in the basin there, while Faramir waited nervously by the door. "What brings you out so early?" Eomer wondered. "It was only a few weeks past that you were on the brink of death. I am surprised that some busy-body or another isn't in an uproar about the early hour."

"Oh, the Master Healer himself shall probably have a word with me after my steward Meneldil tells him, but it is a risk I am willing to take. You are a difficult man to catch."

"I've sat with you in council for the better part of a week."

"Yes, well, to catch alone. I wish to speak with you about a personal matter."

"Oh?" Eomer pulled out a chair for himself and offered one to Faramir. "What might that be?"

Faramir shifted nervously in his chair. "In these days of gladness, my joy has been made greater still by your sister Eowyn."

"You are keeping good on your threat, then?"

"Threat?"

Eomer laughed heartily. "Do you not remember? When I heard it was you who prevented Eowyn from coming to me, I knew her fate was sealed."

"I did not prevent..."

Eomer waved away his protests. "You stole her heart when she was still in her innocence, _Wandering Jewel of Gondor_."

"What in the world are you talking about?"

"You have truly forgotten? I wonder if Eowyn has." Eomer leapt to his feet and walked down a corridor to a side door. He rapped loudly and called "Eowyn! Are you awake?"

"I am now," she answered, her voice rough from sleep. "What do you want?"

"Your company for a while."

Eowyn emerged from her room in an even more disheveled state than Eomer. She wore a robe over her rumpled nightgown and her braid was falling out. Seeing Faramir, she turned and bolted back for her door, but Eomer was quicker, catching her arm.

"You could have told me he was here," she hissed.

"I have an audience with the King in an hour, and I have no time for you to preen. And I suspect this conversation may be important for you as well." Then firmly holding her elbow, he walked back to Faramir.

With all the dignity she could muster, Eowyn sat in her nightgown beside Faramir.

"Faramir has come to make good on his threat."

Eowyn looked sidelong at the man who would be her husband. "What threat might that be?"

"More than seventeen years ago, a certain son of the Steward accompanied Gondor's emissary in his visit to Rohan. I caught him in a chamber alone with my sister, and she in her nightgown too."

"That was you, Eomer?" Faramir rocked back as the memory resurfaced. "And you!" he exclaimed, looking to Eowyn. "You were the dancing damsel who spoke of blood and valor?"

Eowyn began to laugh. "And you were the grave young man of letters? I knew then that you were with the emissary, but I did not know it was the son of the Steward I had lamed in dancing!"

"And when I asked you what you were doing," Eomer continued, "you said you'd steal her away to Gondor. Are you here to take her away from me then?"

All nervousness was gone from Faramir, so shocked was he to learn that the little girl of Rohan was Eowyn. "To ask for her hand in marriage, yes."

"And has he spoken to you, Eowyn?"

"Aye, and I wish to marry."

"Then I give you both my blessing." Eomer smiled and clapped Faramir on the shoulder. "And if a man can offer advice to the husband of his sister, do not dance at the wedding."


End file.
